Rogues of Magic: The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of the Fifth Race Ultimate Ebook Bundle!

Eleven books: You're getting two series and one of the best places to start your Dwemhar Realms adventure!

The Race of Men started as a sacred race...

But when a dark goddess took it upon herself to attempt to kill their god, her vileness knew no end. The Race of Men stood in the glory that was their home, defending the City of Vasruhal until the undead of the necormancers destroyed all they had built.

Lost, a small group of companions fought to protect the race's last hope: the avatar of their fallen god.

Thus the story of the Sunkenlands awaits you.

Rogues of Magic, a series set in the future and after the events of the Sunkenlands is yet another chapter and perhaps the greatest... but the same vile gods and goddesses have returned and the final showdown for elves, dwarves, and the race of men comes back to exactly how it all started: the strength within

Forsaken to be a killer and sent to be a destroyer, Sviska must choose his own path.

Sviska is a man of the shadows, an assassin without any one place to call his own. But in the Far North, he discovers a secret. Magic, long thought lost to the world, is alive. The genocide to destroy every elf, wizard, and sacred being of old is not yet complete. Sviska's masters work the strings of the world and he has been sent for a task he does not even fully understand yet. When at last he feels he has what he has always wanted, darkness falls upon the world.

Forced to rise up to face an enemy more terrible than any he has ever met, Sviska comes to a moral crossroad. The Rogues of Magic rise but will Sviska be the blade that unites them all or strikes those of magic from the world forever?

Prepare yourself for a war that will bring about the gods of old, the remnants of the many races of magic, and follow a man in his journey to awaken that which sleeps deep within himself.

Also Included:

Keepers Fall, a novel set before the events of Rogues of Magic showing a hidden side of the events that lead Sviska to his fateful choice.

How do you deal with a political elite that is destroying the lives of its people? Assassins...

The Island has a problem with its ruling class. A problem a sacred sect called the Keepers will fix. Jerin and Brea strive in the shadows to preserve the race of men and this is just another task to be done. But when the two assassins find the one thing they don't expect, their duty falls away and a fight for the future of the world begins.

Magic was destroyed long ago. A plague killed the others. History is as the people have always known. It's not like everything the Keepers know is a lie... or is it?

Bonus Novella: The Dwarven Guardian!

Experience the true terror of the Grand Protectorate's genocide against the races of magic from an unlikely point of view.

Time is running short.

Shadows surround the dwarf kingdom of Harrodarr and war rages at its gateway. A siege has forced the dwarven army into a dangerous last stand and the outlook is grim for all within the mountain. But there is a chance for hope if they can grasp it fast enough.

Nurocas is a Hammersong, one of the most elite of dwarven warriors renown for his fierceness on the battlefield. But now he has a new charge. A dwarf boy, chosen by their gods, must be escorted to a hidden refuge in the Far North. But they will be hunted by enemies both ethereal and of mortal blood. A genocide is rampant and all not of the blood of men are to be killed without mercy.

Nurocas must move quickly to get the boy to safety but he will soon learn the world is far worse than even the dwarves understand and no one can be trusted.

Keepers Fall Chapter 1

What worked in the shadows was hidden, a skill known to few. But it was not the festive music playing across the quiet city of Cyr that made it so easy for them. As the moon was high above rain soaked streets and a single dancing fountain bounced almost to the music
echoing across the stone buildings. In this courtyard, four statues, representing the opulent rulers of the Island, looked on in blank expression.

Those in within the dark alleys had used the advantage of the night as it was. The bright colored dresses of the
dancers, the wine flowing like a river from bottle to cup, the merriment... It all helped to mask them and their movement.

In such a shroud of shrieking
revelry, no one would pay attention. No one cared.

The Lord of Ravila district looked on from his high tower above the main promenade of celebration. His servants,
tied by chains in a string of human suffering, served his every need.

But that was not why they had come.

No, their masters cared little of
suffering, of slavery, of disgusting inebriation of the sense.

Cyr needed to be tamed.

“Now,now! More wine!” the Lord growled, ringing his bell.

He had finished four bottles
already but for a man like him, the night was just beginning.

“Show them to me, show them to me now!”

A woman standing in the corner of the balcony cowered, a new addition to the Lord’s
purchases.

“You will bare your chest to me, I own you. You do what I say!”

The woman was shaking, struggling to catch her breath.

The Lord went to stand, he staggered but still went towards her.

“You will learn your place!”

The woman fell to the ground,
sinking her head in her palms. She didn’t know what would happen and she began to cry when she felt a faint breeze in the air.

She looked between cracks in her fingers and saw a shadow, a quick form moving from the open window of the tower. Then, she heard a gasp, over and over, then choking.

She lowered her hands to see two figures, both had their faces covered. They were wearing black clothing and
they both had slender silver blades.

Her master was face down, a
sanguine puddle growing around him. He was dead.

One of the two figures nodded, the woman couldn’t tell much, but it looked to be a man. He vanished overthe railing as the other figure began towards her.

She scooted backwards, trying to get away when the remaining figure knelt.

“You are free of your master,” they said, softly.

It was another woman.

“Thank—you—,” she squeaked out in reply.

The figure said nothing, backed away, and then vanished over the railing following the other.

A Lord of Cyr was dead. His slaves would free themselves and flee. The Keepers were bringing a true order to the
world.

Or so, they believed.